When a goddess gets mad, you have to start looking for cover. And if her weapon of choice turns out to be a magic broom, you’ve really got to run! This goddess can thrash you with her questions. Or her songs. Or her silence. Or her body’s silky stories. Do you have the gumption to face the glory and fury of a goddess gone mad?

And the story of the magic broom, in case you’re wondering…

She swept away the flowers they’d placed at her altar and offered it to the composting bin. She poured out the oil from the lamp and cleaned it till she could see her face in it. Her eye was swollen and the skin around it – cracked. The fumes of their devotion had burnt the edges of her nostrils. She pressed her breasts and applied the milk to her broken lips. She lit the end of her sari with her breath and twirled. The cloak of fire wrapped its way around her like a creeper with large red flowers around a tree. The more she twirled, the more the fire cooled her rage. She cast off the sari to the floor and gathered its ashes into a magic broom.


I really enjoyed your show. I love how unapologetic the piece is. It presented as a series of experiences that don’t follow a plot but still belong together.  I also really enjoyed how whimsical it was (as David (one of the audience members)  said). It felt more feminist than a lot of other “feminist” work I’ve seen because it didn’t just show me a problem–it also showed me how we (or the character, or the other voice in this world) sees the problem. The humour was just so on point. It got grave in places and then lightened up without letting the gravity of the moment slip away.

I’m really excited to see more versions.

I’m also excited by it because it actually left me with some questions, the most pressing of which is what next? We know that domesticity is dreary. We know because we saw our grandmothers and our mothers and now our sisters and friends. But it’s doesn’t go away. Especially in urban spaces, we have begun to have conversations about safety and equality in the workspace… But the private is still a big blur. (I’m also really interested in domesticity and the question of private/public, so this really gets my brain going.

I also enjoyed how unapologetically it moved through vernaculars. For once we’re not mocking the local through English or even fighting a linguistic battle… It ends up being broader because of the coexistence of these languages. (I recently wrote a piece on chutney language, so I’ve also been thinking a bit about our language politics and this spoke to that!)

Harshita is such an endearing performer. She really brought the world of the performance close to me–I wanted to stay in it.

–Anishaa Tavag ( dancer & editor at the Clean Copy)

It was intriguing to see a performance in all its awe as well as its vulnerabilities. The piece was unapologetic yet raw- strong in its position yet open to change as the women that made the magic happen, themselves grew and changed.

Feminism is often presented on the offensive, ready to battle against the “big bad world”. It was particularly refreshing to see this piece tackle issues related to womanhood by not waging a war but first encouraging its viewers to establish a relationship with the self. Perhaps this was possible since the performance was rooted in the makers lives and everyday.

Harshita, the lead and star of the day was a whirlwind in herself, single handedly tackling acting, dancing, singing. In speaking about herself she roped all of us viewers in.

-Spondona Chattopadhyay




Harshitha Bhat

Charumathi Supraja

Veena Basavarajaiah


August 26th 2019.